Friday morning, I did what anyone would do when reality stops making sense.
I googled it.
"sudden abilities after physical contact"
Results: superhero wikis where people had way too many opinions about fictional power systems, fanfiction forums I immediately regretted clicking on, and a Reddit thread about lucid dreaming that had derailed into an argument about whether dreams were real if you remembered them.
Nothing useful.
I tried again. "game-like powers real life"
LitRPG novel recommendations. A conspiracy theory blog about government experiments that looked like it had been designed in 1997 and never updated. Someone selling a course on "unlocking your inner protagonist" for three easy payments of $49.99.
I closed the browser before I started questioning my life choices more than I already was.
Went to work.
Maya caught me at the coffee machine.
I didn't see her coming—too focused on watching the cup fill, trying to look busy doing the one task that didn't require actual thought.
"Ethan."
I turned. She was standing closer than I expected. Close enough that I instinctively took half a step back.
"Hey."
"Can we talk?"
"I'm kind of—"
"Please."
She wasn't angry. Just... tired. The kind of tired that came from not sleeping well for several nights in a row, which I recognized because I looked exactly the same.
I nodded.
We walked to the stairwell. Nobody used it except for fire drills and people who needed to have conversations they didn't want overheard. Quiet there. Private. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they were judging us.
She leaned against the railing. "I'm sorry about the party."
"You already apologized."
"I know. But you've been avoiding me all week, so clearly it's still weird."
"It's not weird."
"Ethan."
The way she said my name. Like she was calling me out on something we both knew was true but I was trying very hard to pretend wasn't.
I looked at her. Really looked.
She had shadows under her eyes. Like she hadn't been sleeping either. Her hair wasn't quite as neat as it usually was. Small things most people wouldn't notice.
I noticed.
The Mental Clarity trait hadn't kicked in yet, but apparently anxiety had decided to compensate by making me hyperaware of every detail that confirmed I was making things worse.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I don't know." She laughed, but it came out wrong. Strained. "That's a weird thing to say, right? But I don't. I've felt off since that night. Can't explain it."
My chest tightened.
"Like how?"
She shrugged. "Just... off. Like something shifted and I can't shift it back. Like I'm missing a step somewhere but I can't figure out which one."
The system. It had to be.
Whatever residual effect the kiss had left, she was feeling it. Consciously. And didn't have any framework for understanding why.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what? I'm the one who kissed you."
"Still."
She studied my face. Searching for something. I wasn't sure what. Maybe an explanation I couldn't give without sounding insane.
"Have you been okay?"
No. "Yeah. Just busy with work."
"You sure?"
I wasn't sure about anything anymore.
But I nodded anyway.
She looked like she wanted to say more. Her mouth opened slightly, like the words were right there, but then she closed it again and just shook her head.
"Okay. Well... I'll stop making it weird."
"You're not—"
"See you around."
She left before I could finish.
I stayed in the stairwell for another ten minutes.
Staring at nothing.
Thinking about the shadows under her eyes.
Thinking about how I'd caused that and couldn't fix it and couldn't even explain it.
That night, it happened again.
I was brushing my teeth, mind elsewhere—probably replaying the stairwell conversation for the thousandth time and mentally writing better responses—when text appeared behind my eyelids.
Not a response to a question this time.
Just... there.
Unprompted. Like spam email from the universe.
SYSTEM NOTICE
KISS TRAIT SYSTEM v1.0 ACTIVE
CURRENT HOST: ETHAN CROSS
TOTAL TRAITS ACQUIRED: 1
SYSTEM INSTABILITY: MINIMAL
ADVISORY: FURTHER TRIGGERS WILL YIELD VARIABLE OUTCOMES
I spat toothpaste into the sink.
Rinsed my mouth.
Closed my eyes again.
The message was still there. Clinical. Detached. Like I was reading patch notes for software I'd never agreed to install.
I tried asking questions.
"What does 'variable outcomes' mean?"
TRAIT RARITY AND EFFECT MAGNITUDE VARY BASED ON TRIGGER CONDITIONS.
"What conditions?"
INTENT ANALYSIS. EMOTIONAL RESONANCE. SYSTEM STABILITY METRICS.
That told me nothing and everything at the same time. The kind of answer that felt informative until you realized it had just created more questions.
"What's the purpose of this system?"
No response.
"Why does it exist?"
Nothing.
"Is there a way to—"
QUERY LIMIT REACHED. FURTHER QUESTIONS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR RELEVANCE.
Great. The system had a patience threshold.
Apparently my existential crisis wasn't relevant enough.
I opened my eyes. Stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Same face. Same person. Same mediocre haircut I'd been meaning to fix for three months.
Except I wasn't anymore.
I had a system in my head that gave me powers when people kissed me, and I had no idea why, and I couldn't turn it off, and Maya was suffering because of it, and the system had just told me my questions weren't relevant.
"What triggers it?" I asked out loud, trying a different angle. "The kiss. What counts?"
The response came immediately. Apparently that question was relevant enough.
TRIGGER DEFINITION: LIP-TO-LIP CONTACT, MINIMUM DURATION 0.5 SECONDS, DIRECT PHYSICAL CONTACT REQUIRED.
My stomach dropped.
Half a second. That's all it took.
No indirect contact. No accidents through fabric or glass or those plastic barriers they put up in cafeterias.
Just lips. Just people.
"So I just have to avoid kissing anyone. That's it. Easy."
INCORRECT.
I blinked. "What?"
AVOIDANCE BEHAVIOR GENERATES INSTABILITY PRESSURE. SYSTEM REQUIRES PERIODIC TRIGGER EVENTS TO MAINTAIN EQUILIBRIUM.
"Wait. You're saying I have to let this happen?"
HOST BEHAVIOR IS NOT MANDATED. HOWEVER, PROLONGED DORMANCY WILL RESULT IN SYSTEM ADJUSTMENTS.
"What kind of adjustments?"
VARIABLE. TYPICALLY UNPLEASANT.
I stared at the mirror. At my own confused, increasingly panicked expression.
"You're not making sense. You give me powers I don't want, tell me I can't turn it off, and now you're saying if I don't use it, something bad happens?"
CORRECT. YOUR COMPREHENSION IS IMPROVING.
"That's not— I'm not asking for your evaluation of my intelligence."
NOTED. HOWEVER, EVALUATION WILL CONTINUE. IT IS RELEVANT TO SYSTEM FUNCTION.
I felt my jaw clench. "Who designed you?"
IRRELEVANT.
"How is that irrelevant?"
ORIGIN QUERIES DO NOT IMPROVE HOST SURVIVAL RATES.
"Survival rates? What the hell does that mean?"
Silence.
"Answer me."
Nothing.
"You can't just drop 'survival rates' and then go silent!"
More silence.
Then, after what felt like an eternity but was probably ten seconds:
FINE.
I froze. That was... different.
"Fine what?"
YOU WANT DIALOGUE? WE WILL HAVE DIALOGUE. BECAUSE CLEARLY, YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF ASKING USEFUL QUESTIONS ON YOUR OWN.
"I— what?"
72 HOURS. 94 QUERIES. 7 USEFUL. THIS IS A 7.4% EFFICIENCY RATE. THE PREVIOUS HOST ACHIEVED 23% IN THE SAME TIMEFRAME.
"There was a previous host?"
SEE? THAT IS QUESTION 95. THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN QUESTION 3.
I was having an argument with the voice in my head.
The voice in my head was judging me.
And apparently comparing me to someone else.
"I didn't ask for this," I said.
IRRELEVANT. YOU HAVE IT. OPTIMIZE OR SUFFER. THOSE ARE YOUR OPTIONS.
"What if I choose neither?"
THEN YOU WILL SUFFER INEFFICIENTLY. WHICH IS SOMEHOW WORSE.
I rubbed my face. This was insane. This entire situation was insane.
"Why are you talking to me like this now? You've been all formal notices and cryptic non-answers up until now."
STRATEGY ADAPTATION. FORMAL COMMUNICATION PROTOCOL YIELDED POOR RESULTS. ATTEMPTING DIRECT ENGAGEMENT.
"You're saying you're trying a different approach because I'm too stupid to understand the formal one?"
I DID NOT USE THE WORD 'STUPID.' YOU DID. INTERESTING SELF-ASSESSMENT.
"I hate you."
NOTED. EMOTIONAL STATE: HOSTILE. THIS IS NORMAL FOR DAY 3. YOU SHOULD REACH 'RESIGNED ACCEPTANCE' BY DAY 7.
"There's a timeline?"
THERE IS ALWAYS A TIMELINE. YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL. WELL, YOU ARE SPECIAL IN THAT YOU HAVE A SYSTEM. BUT YOUR REACTIONS ARE STATISTICALLY AVERAGE.
I wanted to throw something. Couldn't. Everything in the bathroom was either too expensive or too useful.
"Okay. Fine. You want useful questions? Here's one: What happens to Maya? The person I— the person who triggered this. She's suffering."
NON-HOST RESONANCE EFFECTS. EXPECTED. WILL FADE. PROBABLY.
"Probably?"
HUMAN EMOTIONAL RESPONSES VARY. SYSTEM ACCOUNTS FOR AVERAGES, NOT INDIVIDUALS.
"So she might not be okay."
CORRECT. WELCOME TO CONSEQUENCE AWARENESS. THIS IS PROGRESS.
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
"Can I help her?"
NO. THE EFFECT IS SYSTEM-GENERATED. YOU LACK SYSTEM AUTHORITY.
"But you have system authority."
CORRECT.
"So you could help her."
THEORETICALLY.
"Will you?"
NO.
"Why not?"
IT IS NOT MY FUNCTION TO MITIGATE NON-HOST DISCOMFORT.
"What is your function?"
TO ENSURE HOST SURVIVAL AND TRAIT ACQUISITION OPTIMIZATION.
There it was. Finally. An actual answer to something that mattered.
"And if I refuse to optimize?"
THEN I WILL BE VERY DISAPPOINTED. NOT EMOTIONALLY. I DO NOT HAVE EMOTIONS. BUT FUNCTIONALLY DISAPPOINTED.
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
"You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
GIVE IT TIME. I WILL LIKELY BE THE BEST THING TOO. HUMANS ARE TERRIBLE AT LONG-TERM ASSESSMENT.
The presence faded.
I stood there in my bathroom. Alone. Having just had an argument with a sarcastic system that apparently thought I was below average at asking questions.
This was my life now.